


Flirting in a Bakery

by alafaye



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Advent, Baked Goods, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-16
Updated: 2011-12-17
Packaged: 2017-10-27 10:10:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/294584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alafaye/pseuds/alafaye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg mets someone at his usual bakery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the advent challenge at the livejournal community of the same name; prompt "baked goods".

Greg Lestrade smiled when he entered the bakery. He'd been coming to this one since he'd lived in London--as a student and then later in the force. It had been a treat for the holidays as he hadn't had much when he was a student; the tuition took nearly all of his paychecks. It hadn't seemed right to not go to get something after he'd graduated and he'd gone ever since. There was only one other customer in who seemed to be torn between his choices.

"I've always thought the cupcakes were the better choice," he said. "She does something amazing with them."

"Oh, you flatterer," Mrs. Thomas said. "I haven't seen you in a few weeks--criminals getting busy?"

"Yeah," Greg said. "Seems like once you get rid of one, you find two more." He shrugged.

"Ah, well," she said. "No matter. You're here now. I'll be with you in a moment, love."

"No, please, go ahead," the other man said. "I'm still undecided."

"Why not go for both?" Greg said. "It's the holidays after all."

The other man smiled blandly. "If only. Go on, I have to make my decision."

Greg frowned and wondered about that. Still, it wasn't his place to pry. He got a cupcake for himself and a few cookies. "I'm afraid they'll go bad if I get too much."

Mrs. Thomas chuckled and put the items in a box. He looked at the other customer and smiled. "I wouldn't worry too much, you know. One little extra right now won't hurt."

The other man raised an eyebrow. "Do you think so?"

Greg nodded. "Yep. And I'm sure that whomever you've got at home will help you keep it off." He winked, feeling bold.

The other man flushed and Greg chuckled. He handed over his money and took the box. "Happy Christmas," he said to them both.

"Happy Christmas," Mrs. Thomas replied.

The other man muttered something, but looked too lost in thought.

~~~

Greg sipped his coffee--still hot, damn it--and watched Sherlock dance around the body, looking for something. Greg hoped it wasn't another case. John looked dead on his feet, much as the rest of them did (except Sherlock). Their serial killer was careful, leaving clues but very few of them. Greg wondered if it was on purpose.

"We've got a spy," Sally said as she approached him. "Not the usual kind of gawker. Looks more official--government."

He got from her tone that she was warning him, afraid that someone had finally noticed that they let Sherlock in. "I'll handle it." It was his fault, after all.

She nodded and watched the car a few feet away warily. Greg handed his coffee off to a patrol man and knocked on the window. It rolled down and he frowned. It was the other customer from the bakery, a few nights ago. "Er, sorry. We're just wondering what you're doing here." He hoped it wasn't about Sherlock--his hard work to make it to DI would be for nothing.

"Just checking on my brother," the man said. "I know this case has gone on for some time and I do hope he's remembering to eat."

Interesting. Looking at Sherlock and then back, Greg could see some family resemblance. "I think John got Sherlock to a restaurant, but I'm not sure if Sherlock actually ate."

"He probably didn't," the man said. He looked at Sherlock who was engaged in some conversation with John that looked to be getting intense. Greg didn't want to step in--the last time he had, it had ended up with John's fist in his face.

"I doubt he will eat," Greg said.

The man nodded. "Likely not. Well, forgive my intrusion, but you may see me again if the killer is not caught in time."

"I hope he is. Sorry, what is your name? I'd like to know if you plan on making regular appearances where I happen to be. I'm Lestrade, by the way. Greg."

"Mycroft Holmes," the man said, but his lips were quirked, as though teasing Greg.

~~~

Mycroft. Holmes. Likely as eccentric as his brother, but far more...contained. Greg sat back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling. He wondered how alike they were and how different they were. He did know that of the two, in Greg's opinion, Mycroft was the handsomer of them. While Sherlock was like a model who had walked off the pages of GQ, Mycroft had a masculinity that Greg found himself, unwillingly, drawn to.

What was the matter with him? He had been divorced for two years, separated three before that. He had been living quietly and celibate. With his hours, he hardly had time for dating and more, he was fine without a date or lover or anything else. His job was enough.

As he went back to his paperwork, he held onto that because he was beginning to have doubts.

~~~

Mycroft tapped his umbrella restlessly against the floor of the car. Beside him, Anthea stopped typing. "Anything the matter, sir?"

"Nothing." The tapping continued, but her typing did not.

"I'm sure there's something," she pressed. Anthea rested her hand over his, stopping him. "Is it about the DI? I could have him replaced. There are plenty who would be willing to work with your brother."

Mycroft debated telling her--she was the only one he could call friend. "It is, but not about his work with Sherlock." She waited patiently for him to continue. "He's...rather handsome, isn't he?"

The edges of her mouth curled up. "He is, I suppose."

"Do you know if--"

"He is divorced and not seeing anyone at this present time."

He nodded. "He said he liked the cupcakes from the bakery I like--would you--?"

"All ready on it, sir."

"Very good."

~~~

Greg raised an eyebrow when he found a package waiting for him when he got in to work. It was a plain box tied with a bit of twine and looked very much like a pastry box. He looked behind him, but no one looked away from him quickly. He shut the door and cautiously opened it. Inside, there was a cupcake, bearing the distinctive swirl of Mrs. Thomas' cupcakes.

There was only one person who knew that Greg loved them.

"Mycroft Holmes," he chuckled.

He wondered how soon he would see him again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for day seventeen of the advent challenge at the livejournal community of the same name; prompt "holiday sweets".

Greg wondered if he was ever going to be able to hand off the box of chocolates. He had bought them after finding more cupcakes on his desk. It had been a weak hope that he'd see Mycroft before the holidays, but hope he did. The chocolates would stay good, but he didn't want to keep them after the holidays. They were meant to given, not kept.

He smiled when he saw a familiar car park down the road from the crime scene. Sherlock was in his element, finding the little clues that were needed. He left quietly and walked to the car. He knocked on the window. As it rolled down, he pulled out the box. Mycroft looked at him warily. "Detective Inspector."

"Greg," he said. "Just Greg." He held out the box. "For you."

Mycroft took it, looking a little shocked. "Thank you, Greg."

Greg smiled. "You're welcome." He looked over at the crime scene, noted that he wasn't need just yet. "Um, for the future, is there a way I can get in touch with you? Would that be fine?"

"It would very welcome," Mycroft said. He took a notebook from his coat and jotted down something. "You may contact me there."

Greg smiled. "Great. Good to see you again." He winked. "Hope to see more."

Mycroft flushed and the window rolled up. Greg licked his lips and left, pocketing the paper.

~~~

Later in the week, a bag of peppermint candies appeared at his work desk. He opened the bag and ate one, letting out a sigh at the flavor as it exploded on his tongue. He took out the paper with Mycroft's information.

 _These peppermint candies are too delicious for one person. Could I tempt you into eating a few with me? GL_

 _I'd love to. Saturday, eight o'clock? We can meet for dinner at Michele's before, if you're amiable. MH_

 _Saturday._

~~~

Though dinner had gone well and conversation had been amazing--Greg was surprised they had so much in common--they were both standing outside the restaurant, looking like a pair of awkward teenages after their first date. He fingered the bag of peppermints and tried to resist the urge to scuff his foot on the pavement. This should be easy, damn it--he was a grown man, in his 40s and he had dated after his divorce. He knew how this went. Why then was this...like this?

Mycroft coughed. "I...believe you said something about sharing the peppermints?"

Greg half smiled. "I did, didn't I? I'd still like to."

Mycroft gave a shy smile. "As would I. Mine or yours?"

Greg considered what he knew of Mycroft. "Yours would be best for you, I think." He tried to inflect that it would be for security. While Greg didn't know what exactly Mycroft did, he suspect that the man had a whole team of security just for himself.

Mycroft nodded and pulled out his phone. In moments, a black car pulled up to the curb and Mycroft gestured for Greg to go first. After Mycroft was in, they were off and more silence fell. Flirting had been easy, but this wasn't. Greg could sense that Mycroft wanted him, but was it too early? There wasn't enough for Greg to go on and he didn't know if any more he made would be rebuffed.

"I confess that we may have gotten on the wrong foot, Greg," Mycroft said. He turned his body so he was facing Greg. "I feel it is my fault. It is not often that I...date anyone and I am not sure how to act. I think I've come across as cold."

Greg licked his lips. "Must be a family trait, reading minds."

Mycroft chuckled. "Perhaps." He moved closer and put his hand on Greg's. "I would very much like to know what exactly you meant when you said you wanted to share the peppermints."

"Well, to be honest, it was more of a way to ask you out. Then the more I thought about it, I thought it might make for a good..." He flushed. "A good blow job."

Mycroft's face was blank, but his eyes were roving Greg's face. "How?"

Greg moved his hand from Mycroft's own to his thigh. He traced circles on it, drawing closer to the topic of conversation. "I figure if sucking on an ice cube feels amazing, a peppermint should be interesting."

Mycroft was beginning to grin. "I think I might like that."

"Good. I was hoping I could try it on you."

"I am at your service for any trial."

Greg was close to suggesting they start there, in the car (which in addition to being odd with the driver just on the other side of the glass would be very uncomfortable yet Greg was willing), they stopped. Mycroft pulled Greg out and in and up and finally there was a bed. Greg toed off his shoes and pulled his coat off, eager to try, and frowned when he realized that his soon-to-be lover was not getting undressed.

"What's wrong?"

Mycroft smiled and stepped close--there was no more than a foot between them. "I like to take my time, Greg. No rushing. Most of my life is rushed and I will admit if you continue to want me, there will be a lot of rushed mornings. But I will try to make more moments where we can spend hours together. And tonight I especially want to take hours with you."

Greg's heart stuttered and there were butterflies in his stomach. He did want to keep dating Mycroft, there was no doubt about that. He wanted to get to know him, to know more about the little things he learned earlier at dinner, and he did want Mycroft badly as a bed partner. It was thrilling to know that Mycroft felt that way, too. He pulled the other man close by the lapels for a deep kiss that left them both panting.

"I think I can do hours," Greg whispered.

"I thought you might." Mycroft tilted back and ran a finger down Greg's tie. "I believe we are a bit overdressed."

"You might be right. How about we fix that?"

"Let's."


End file.
